


And I Will Make You Like A Signet Ring: For I Have Taken You To Be Mine

by Lurlur



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BDSM, Blow Jobs, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Halo Kink, If You Squint - Freeform, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Masturbation, Metaphysical Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rated E for Inappropriate Use of God-Given Symbols of Divinity, Rimming, Sub Crowley (Good Omens), who sort of get married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: “You did so very well for me, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, kissing the top of his head. “I’m endlessly proud of you.”He squirms, burying his face in Aziraphale’s chest as his cheeks flush with warmth. He brings his whole body closer to Aziraphale’s softness, wrapping limbs around him like vines seeking sunlight.“Anything for you,” he says as if it explains everything he is willing to do, willing to be for Aziraphale. “You know that.”“I do know,” Aziraphale says simply before dropping another kiss into Crowley’s hair. “We belong to each other.”Crowley snorts a half-hearted laugh, his mind already planning eight different sarcastic quips to make at their expense. He waits, knowing that whatever thought has struck Aziraphale will be revealed soon enough. His patience is rewarded less than two minutes later.“Love, would you let me see your halo?”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 306
Collections: MoFu Birthdays, Top Aziraphale Recs





	And I Will Make You Like A Signet Ring: For I Have Taken You To Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benzedrine_calmstheitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benzedrine_calmstheitch/gifts).



> Happy birthday, dearest, darling Stu! Have some birthday porn! That's a normal thing that friends do for each other!
> 
> Thanks to Narumi for the excellent beta work, Tarek for cheerleading, and Bucky for finding me all the best bible quotes!
> 
> The title is taken from the bible verse Haggai 2:23

In all of his existence, an existence which it should be noted has spanned dimensions beyond time, Crowley has never been as content as he is in this very moment. The ache in his limbs is fading as Aziraphale rubs at his joints and the marks left by hours of intricate knotwork; he can still taste Aziraphale’s come on the back of his tongue, and the words he’s hearing are deliciously soothing. He could live forever in this moment and never ask for anything more.

“You did so very well for me, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, kissing the top of his head. “I’m endlessly proud of you.”

He squirms, burying his face in Aziraphale’s chest as his cheeks flush with warmth. It’s been over a year since they fell into this new arrangement and yet Crowley still can’t hear praise without blushing like a fool. It’s embarrassing, really, just how much he likes it, how much it affects him to be the focus of Aziraphale’s love.

He brings his whole body closer to Aziraphale’s softness, wrapping limbs around him like vines seeking sunlight.

“Anything for you,” he says as if it explains everything he is willing to do, willing to be for Aziraphale. “You know that.”

“I do know,” Aziraphale says simply before dropping another kiss into Crowley’s hair. “We belong to each other.”

Crowley snorts a half-hearted laugh, his mind already planning eight different sarcastic quips to make at their expense.

“Sounds a bit codependent to me, angel,” he smirks up at Aziraphale with no bite at all.

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale agrees, “horribly codependent. An impossibly unhealthy relationship, really.”

Crowley snuggles closer, knowing that Aziraphale will hold him and love him no matter how many stupid things he can think up to say. The hands caressing him stop suddenly, stilling on his skin for a moment before resuming their steady progress along his body. He waits, knowing that whatever thought has struck Aziraphale will be revealed soon enough. His patience is rewarded less than two minutes later.

“Love, would you let me see your halo?”

It’s a new request, not something they’ve done before, but Crowley is only curious, not particularly anxious. Swallowing down the impulse to question Aziraphale’s motives, Crowley sits up a little to clear space around his head and calls in the shattered remnants of his once glorious halo. He can’t see the halo itself, but there’s a change in the quality of the light in their bedroom, a warmth that wasn’t there a moment ago. Feeling silly and more than a little self-conscious, Crowley sits up properly and crosses his legs before him.

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale breathes, rising to his knees, “you remarkable thing. May I touch?”

Crowley shrugs to say that he doesn’t care either way, but it’s not fully true. He’s falling apart at just the thought of Aziraphale’s holy fingers touching this symbol of Crowley’s stolen divinity. Aziraphale’s eyes become flint, his mouth a thin line. A shrug is not consent nor refusal-Crowley has to do better.

“You may, just,” Crowley glances down to where his hands fiddle in his lap, “go carefully, yeah?”

“Of course, just tell me if it’s too much.”

Crowley nods and tries to subtly brace himself for whatever sensation Aziraphale is about to wring from his exhausted body. Nothing could prepare him for the sparks that flow down his spine at the gentlest touch of Aziraphale’s fingertips to the outer rim of his halo. A shiver runs through his entire body and a noise embarrassingly close to a whine seems to come from his throat, although he’ll deny it if pressed.

With no conscious thought involved, Crowley pushes his head towards Aziraphale’s hand and gasps as the contact deepens. The sparks become a pulse of fiery pleasure that he feels all the way down to his toes.

“Aziraphale!”

The contact stops immediately, Aziraphale’s face is level with his, searching his eyes for the cause of the outburst.

“Too much?” Aziraphale asks, reaching for Crowley’s shoulders, “Does it hurt?”

Crowley’s chest is heaving with shocked breaths, he knows he has to find the words to answer but how can he describe the overflowing sensations that have him shaking and gasping?

“No,” he manages, “s’good. Really good.” He returns Aziraphale’s gaze as steadily as he can. “Do it again?”

Aziraphale smiles and resettles himself on his knees before Crowley. He raises one hand slowly, palm turned away from Crowley, and reaches to brush against the halo with the backs of his fingers.

Now that he’s prepared for it, the sensation is far more manageable. Crowley shivers as the pleasure of Aziraphale’s touch shoots through him.

“Talk to me, love, tell me how it feels,” Aziraphale says in a soothing whisper.

Crowley breathes deep and leans forward, offering more of his halo to Aziraphale’s attention as he braces his hands on Aziraphale’s thighs.

“S’real good,” he starts, breathing heavily, “like electric shocks or touching an exposed nerve. Feel it all over.”

Pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead, Aziraphale makes a pleased little noise which feels almost as good as the gentle strokes he’s giving the broken disc about his head.

Gradually, the pressure increases, slowly enough for Crowley to keep his wits about him, grounding himself by focusing on the solid muscle of Aziraphale’s thighs under his hands. Despite having climaxed not ten minutes before, his cock is achingly hard, both from the shocks of pleasure and the knowledge that he is pleasing Aziraphale with his submission.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, sounding awestruck as he runs his fingers along the golden surface of the fractured disc, “you’re doing so well for me, my beautiful darling.”

The pleasure spikes suddenly, Aziraphale’s praise shooting directly to Crowley’s essence. Before he knows what’s happening Crowley is coming hard, his fingers digging into Aziraphale’s thick thighs and hot pulses of semen striping his own crossed legs.

It lasts forever and not long enough all at once, Crowley can barely breathe through the sheer amount of sensation being processed and yet he never wants it to end. The climax shakes him down to his core, the energy that makes him what he is.

When he finally, too soon, comes back to himself, Aziraphale’s thigh is pillowing his cheek and he’s curled in a tight ball. Careful fingers brush through the hair above his temple, avoiding contact with the still-manifested halo.

“Wow,” Crowley says eloquently.

“I should say so,” Aziraphale agrees.

Silence persists for a few more moments as Crowley gets his heart and lungs back under control before turning his attention to his unruly limbs. He’s about to try sitting up when Aziraphale’s other hand presses into his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Stay, please.”

Crowley hums and relaxes again, embracing the urge to be loose and boneless in Aziraphale’s hands.

Aziraphale wants something, Crowley can feel it in the air, he wants something that he’s not sure he’s allowed to want, something Crowley might refuse. Which, honestly, is ridiculous. Aziraphale should know by now that Crowley would give him anything he wanted.

“Whatever you’re worrying about, angel,” Crowley says, breaking the peace, “the answer’s yes.”

A surprised splutter from above him tells Crowley that he was right, not that he ever doubted it. Temptation is his business, after all.

“What if I wanted to hold your halo with both hands and tell you all the wonderful things I think about you, just to see how many times I can force you to climax,” Aziraphale teases, trying to disguise the edge of nervousness in his voice. Crowley isn’t fooled.

“I think that would be a fantastic way to die, and you wouldn’t let that happen.”

Aziraphale’s hand slides down Crowley’s arm from his shoulder to his fingers, holding them to bring up to Aziraphale’s mouth for a kiss.

“Quite right, I wouldn’t,” Aziraphale admits after covering Crowley’s hand in kisses. “What I want might be just as overwhelming, though.”

Crowley considers this, wondering at what Aziraphale could have planned. Of course there are things that he would deny Aziraphale, things he would refuse, but part of what makes this arrangement work so well is the trust that Aziraphale won’t ask anything of him that he can’t give. He can throw himself into things that terrify him because Aziraphale is there, keeping him safe and loved. Maybe he’s a bit too foolhardy for the both of them, but Crowley has a long and storied history of throwing caution to the wind and things seem to have worked in his favour so far.

“If you want it, I trust you,” Crowley says decisively.

Aziraphale sighs happily and Crowley melts a little more.

“I’ll be careful,” Aziraphale promises. “Would you roll onto your front?”

For the first time, Crowley realises that all evidence of his orgasm has already been cleaned away. He’s so cared for, he could cry if he went in for that sort of thing (he does, frequently). Careful of his exposed halo, Crowley rolls onto his front and allows Aziraphale to position him so he’s lying straight out from where Aziraphale is kneeling, his face supported between Aziraphale’s thighs. The musky warmth of Aziraphale’s groin is almost alarmingly soothing for Crowley; he closes his eyes and lets his body relax for whatever Aziraphale has planned.

Strong hands smooth over his shoulders and up the back of his neck to the base of his halo; he’s safe and protected, Aziraphale has him.

A burning shaft of pure sensation pierces him, like a beam of light that burns right through to his core. Crowley gasps and tries to push himself up only to be held firm by one of Aziraphale’s hands. It’s too much, far too much, and he wants so much more of it. Everything that has ever called itself Crawly tries to revolt and run, scales erupt down the length of his back, inky black wings manifest only to mantle both angel and demon protectively, his spine gives up any grasp on reality and tries to slither his body away. It’s a very confusing time.

Aziraphale’s fingers are  _ in _ his halo, grasping a piece of it and  _ pulling _ until it parts.

Just like that, the feeling is gone. Crowley can only lie on the bed, panting and imposing his control over various parts of his occult anatomy until he feels like he’s the right shape again. Through sheer force of will, Crowley puts his wings away and keeps his halo visible. He’s far too overwhelmed to be aroused by what Aziraphale’s just done.

“You can put it away now, love,” Aziraphale says softly, “I’m ever so proud of you.”

Crowley lets his halo shrink back to nothingness and sags against Aziraphale’s legs, drawing his body up to curl around every point of contact he can find.

He’s well beyond words at this point and Aziraphale gives him the time he needs to recover, petting him and murmuring reassurances. Eventually, curiosity overtakes his need for comfort. Pushing himself up, Crowley slips between Aziraphale’s arms and urges him into lying back on the pillows.

Nestled against Aziraphale and comfortable, Crowley finds his voice again.

“So, angel,” he says, all sass and no bite, “what the fuck was that about?”

Aziraphale holds out one hand in answer, a tiny fragment of golden light hovering just above his palm. It shimmers and twists like molten metal, never still.

“I had an idea,” he says simply.

“You just wanted to see if you could nick a bit?” Crowley asks, faintly annoyed at the mediocre pay off for his ordeal.

“That’s only the first part of my idea, love,” Aziraphale soothes.

He pulls his arm back from around Crowley’s shoulders which earns him a pout and a whine, both of which are short-lived as his intention becomes more obvious. Pinching the fragment of halo, Aziraphale begins to shape it with both physical force and celestial suggestions. It becomes a disc and then a loop, finally settling into the shape of a golden serpent chasing its own tail in a ring.

“Very pretty,” Crowley says drily.

Lifting one eyebrow in a somewhat mocking question, Aziraphale brings the ring to his lips and kisses it.

Immediately, Crowley shivers from head to toe as a warm burst of love rolls over his essence. His eyes grow wide in shock and realisation.

“You perfect  _ bastard _ !” Crowley yelps, making to snatch the ring away.

Aziraphale “vanishes” it in a clumsy display of sleight of hand which makes Crowley groan all the more.

“Is it unpleasant?” Aziraphale asks, suddenly serious. “If it bothers you greatly, I shan’t use it.”

He’s so earnest that Crowley has to take a moment before answering, biting back all the sarcasm and humour that he wants to hide behind.

“No, it’s not unpleasant,” he admits, looking sheepish. “It’s good, I like it. S’like you’re kissing me in every possible dimension.”

Aziraphale looks so damnably soft and pleased with himself that Crowley can hardly bear it.

“Retiring this old thing at last, are you?” Crowley asks, deflecting and tapping on the ring Aziraphale wears on the little finger of his right hand.

With a gasp, Aziraphale snatches his hand away from Crowley and holds it against his chest, doing a very good job of looking offended at the very suggestion.

“Absolutely not!” he says before calming himself. “I will let you choose which finger I wear this one on, though.”

He holds both hands up where Crowley can see them in order to make his choice.

It’s a deeply meaningful offer, Crowley realises. He’s being given the chance to make a statement or to let it slip by without awkwardness. Aziraphale is testing the water without pushing. Crowley leaps.

“This one,” Crowley says, stroking the ring finger on Aziraphale’s left hand. “Wear it here.”

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale asks carefully.

“Positive. It belongs here.”

Aziraphale hands the ring over to Crowley and holds still with his fingers spread. After taking a moment to admire the form of the little snake, Crowley slides it onto Aziraphale’s finger and kisses where it comes to rest, looking up at Aziraphale with liquid eyes.

“Mine,” he says.

“Yours,” Aziraphale agrees.

Before he can do anything as outrageously undemonic as sob, Crowley finds himself wrapped in a hug and kissed soundly as blankets are pulled up over them both. Aziraphale settles Crowley in his arms and kisses him until he falls asleep, happy and loved.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Crowley slowly gets used to the sudden sensation of love shooting down his spine. The knowledge that Aziraphale is thinking of him when they are apart, thinking of him and loving him so deeply- well, it makes up for the awkwardness of collapsing on the pavement or having to hold himself up on the counter of the bakery.

One night, Crowley finds himself tossing and turning in his bed. Aziraphale is only a short distance across town but, with lives and habits as long-lasting as they have, they need time apart as much as time together.

All the same, Crowley can’t sleep and he’s seriously considering calling Aziraphale to see if he’d like some company. He resolves to do just that, swinging his legs out of bed as a wave of lust swamps him. Immediately, he’s hard in his pyjamas and falling back onto the mattress.

Arching his spine off the bed, Crowley whines and reaches for himself. Love and desire flood him in a hauntingly familiar way, overwhelming him until it’s all he can do to grab at the bedsheets and try to keep himself together.

Pleasure boils low in his belly, drawing him closer towards an orgasm he’s not chasing. Crowley would panic if it weren’t for the strong presence of love twining around every other sensation. Whatever this is, it’s something that Aziraphale is doing and that makes it alright, if a little confusing.

Crowley can feel phantom touches on his cock and the tingle of adoration that Aziraphale pours down his every nerve. It’s blindingly good but he can’t do anything to make it crest into a climax, he’s not in control and that is as intoxicating as it ever was.

Without warning, Crowley is shoved over the edge of his pleasure and into an orgasm that leaves him sticky and gasping. He’s barely had a chance to miracle his pyjamas clean before the mobile on his bedside table is ringing with Aziraphale’s ringtone.

“Hello angel,” Crowley says, trying to sound less post-orgasmic than he is and failing.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale sounds just as wrecked which surprises Crowley more than it should. “You’re awake, wonderful.”

“Couldn’t sleep, then I  _ really _ couldn’t sleep. Anything to do with you?” Crowley asks, thinking he’s put the pieces together.

Aziraphale makes an indescribable, indecipherable noise down the phone and Crowley grins in certain victory.

“I was thinking about you, my dear,” Aziraphale admits at last. “I was remembering that very clever thing you did with your tongue yesterday and, well, I had a situation that needed tending to.”

Crowley snickers, delighted with the image of Aziraphale getting hot and bothered over him.

“I’m hurt,” he switches to a dramatic sulk, “I could have been there in two minutes to  _ tend _ to you.”

“Oh, there was no need. I had the matter well in hand.” Aziraphale says, sounding all too pleased with himself.

“I imagine you did,” Crowley admits thoughtfully, “your left hand, was it?”

Aziraphale giggles, actually giggles into the phone and Crowley doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that the being he loves, adores, worships more than any other, the one being in the entire universe that Crowley has felt safe submitting to, can  _ giggle _ like that. It’s galling and adorable.

“I suppose it was, now that you mention it.” Crowley knows that tone intimately and grins wider. Aziraphale continues. “At least I didn’t wake you, you can be ever so bad-tempered when your nap is interrupted.”

“I dunno, angel,” Crowley says carefully and thoughtfully. “If I was being woken up like that, I’d probably get over it pretty quickly.”

“Consider that noted, dearest.” Aziraphale pauses and Crowley holds his breath in anticipation. “Seeing as we’re both up...” he trails off.

“I’ll be there in two ticks.”

* * *

“You’ll wear that thing smooth,” Crowley chides, taking Aziraphale’s left hand in his and stilling the thumb that has been worrying against the golden snake ring for half an hour.

“I will do no such thing,” Aziraphale snorts, holding up his other hand where his ring of six millennia rests, as clean as the day he put it on.

Crowley grumbles wordlessly, trying to deflect from the fact that Aziraphale’s new habit of stroking at the ring is making him tingle with a steady stream of love and lust. It’s distracting to say the least. More than that, though, he doesn’t want to get so used to the feeling that the lack of it is more noticeable.

Aziraphale seems to understand at the least direction of his thoughts, if not the finer detail. He doesn’t pull his hand back or rub absently at the ring again for many hours.

* * *

Aziraphale has been wearing the ring for a little more than six months when he sits Crowley down in the backroom of the bookshop and asks him how he feels about it. Crowley is thrown by the question. He is so used to the connection to Aziraphale that he could almost forget that it hadn’t always been this way. Six months is less than the blink of an eye for an eternal being, but this feels so right and natural to Crowley that he had never questioned its place in his life now.

He manages to explain this to Aziraphale in his own particular brand of eloquence, stuttering and mangling simple words as his heart tries to spit them out faster than his tongue could handle.

“Basically,” he tries to sum up, “I like knowing you’ve got something of me with you, and that you can make me feel however you choose, whenever you like. I like when you have control.”

That last part isn’t news to either of them, but Crowley is still pleased to be able to say it out loud.

Aziraphale nods and presses his lips together thoughtfully.

“I’ve been thinking that it’s awfully unfair of me to enjoy this entirely one-sided-” Crowley opens his mouth to object but Aziraphale holds up a finger to silence him “-after all, you gave me a ring and I haven’t given you anything in return.”

Crowley’s heart leaps to his throat, fighting with the rebuttal that wants to assure Aziraphale that he has given Crowley plenty over these past months. Luckily, neither his heart nor the words fall out of him because Aziraphale isn’t done.

“I think that you deserve something in kind. If you can be good for me tonight, then I will reward you with a gift.” Aziraphale leans in close to Crowley’s face, kissing his cheek. “You can be good for me, can’t you?”

Crowley’s eyes close automatically, focusing his senses on everything that Aziraphale’s proximity brings. The scent of his skin, the sound of his breath and the drag of his clothing, the warmth that glows out from his core. Crowley gluts himself whilst sitting perfectly still.

“Yes, angel,” Crowley murmurs and waits for his next instruction.

“I’ll be up in two minutes; you’ll be naked on the bed by the time I get there, won’t you?” Aziraphale asks gently.

“I will, yes.”

Aziraphale steps back and Crowley feels the subtle change in air temperature around his face. His eyes snap open and as soon as Aziraphale is far enough back, he darts to the spiral staircase and sprints up, the cast iron steps ringing under his feet.

He’s stripping before he’s even in the bedroom, not wanting to lose a moment. His boots fight him more than he likes, but finally they are off and thrown into a corner, leaving only his jeans. Aziraphale’s footsteps are on the stairs and Crowley is wriggling free of tight, black denim, cursing every fashion designer he ever paid attention to. They come free just as Aziraphale reaches the top of the stairs- Crowley hurls them away and leaps onto the bed, breathless but excited.

“Good boy,” Aziraphale says, beaming as he enters the room and closes the door behind him, standing in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat.

Crowley watches Aziraphale approach, his eyes darting from Aziraphale’s face, down to where he’s removing his cufflinks, and back up to his face. These moments are some of Crowley’s favourites; the anticipation is heavy and loaded with potential- Aziraphale could have anything planned and Crowley has no idea, he’s entirely at the mercy of Aziraphale’s whims. He likes it rather more than he thinks he should.

Aziraphale rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and carefully unbuttons his waistcoat, shrugging it off and draping it over the back of a chair. Crowley’s mouth is practically watering at the sight, and he’s filled with nervous energy that wants to pounce on Aziraphale and wrap around him in tight coils. Fighting the urge is always his first challenge. He’ll do what Aziraphale wants, not what Crowley wants.

Aziraphale sits on the side of the bed and reaches a hand out towards Crowley, drawing him close so that Crowley’s legs are splayed either side of Aziraphale’s body, one behind his back and one across his legs. Snuggled close, Crowley watches Aziraphale slide his heavenly ring off his little finger and toss it up into the air where it disappears.

Crowley is about to object to Aziraphale breaking their new rule disallowing magic tricks in the bedroom when a blindingly bright light erupts around Aziraphale’s head. Crowley screws his eyes closed and buries his face in Aziraphale’s chest, hiding from the searing light.

“Oops, sorry about that,” Aziraphale says, sounding sheepish, “you can look now.”

Cautiously, Crowley lifts his head and eases his eyes open. The light is still there, but now it’s the tone of warm honey and Crowley can see the shape of it, the disc of light that frames Aziraphale’s head.

“You’re beautiful,” Crowley says, feeling a little too much like a moth seeing a flame for the first time.

Aziraphale blushes and looks away in a move that is infuriatingly adorable. Crowley wants to kiss him more than anything. Taking hold of Crowley’s hand, Aziraphale lifts it towards his halo and lets Crowley’s fingers brush against it. He doesn’t suppress the shiver caused by the contact, instead pressing Crowley’s hand more firmly against the light. The sensation is a little like walking through a cold draught and simultaneously like the feeling of sunlight filtering through a window to warm you, all wrapped up in the mess of signals that come from jarring your funny bone. Crowley wiggled his fingers experimentally.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley swallows thickly, remembering what had happened when Aziraphale had praised him whilst touching his halo.

“I’m thinking that I love you, and that you trust me, and that you’re perfect.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flutter closed and his breathing grows shallow for a few moments, but he doesn’t lose control like Crowley had.

“Marvellous,” he says when his eyes open again, shining with love all for Crowley.

The grasp on his wrist releases and Crowley draws his hand away, unsure of what he’s allowed.

“Wearing my halo in the open for all this time has helped me become accustomed to touch,” Aziraphale explains gently. He takes Crowley’s hand and laces their fingers together. “I can still feel you through it, still experience your love, it just doesn’t shake me to pieces.”

Crowley offers a half-hearted snarl.

“How very lovely for you.”

Aziraphale laughs and leans in to kiss Crowley’s frown away.

“It means I can do this...” Aziraphale reaches up with his free hand and plucks at the outer rim of his halo until he can grip a small piece. Pulling slowly, a strip unwinds around the diameter of the halo like a ribbon coming away from a spool. When it reaches the point that Aziraphale started from, the strip comes away in his hand.

His halo looks as complete and holy as ever, none the worse for having a piece taken. With the ribbon of light wrapped around the fingers of his left hand, Aziraphale snaps with his right and his halo disappears. The gold ring drops into his palm, also unchanged, and Crowley helps Aziraphale slide it back onto his little finger. Crowley remembers with some shame how he had writhed and fought when Aziraphale had taken the tiny fragment from his own halo, and some of that must show on his face.

“Love, you did ever so well for me, don’t doubt that,” Aziraphale says in reassuring tones. “I’m sure that a broken halo is far more sensitive than a whole one, and you didn’t know what was happening. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Mollified, Crowley allows himself to be kissed soundly until he is melting against Aziraphale’s body. With a firm hand on Crowley’s chest, Aziraphale eases him back until he’s lying flat on the bed, his legs still either side of Aziraphale’s body.

Crowley watches with abstract interest as Aziraphale spins the strand of his halo between his fingers, forming a circle much larger than a ring would need to be. When Aziraphale seems finished and pleased with his creation, Crowley opens his mouth to point out the flaw only to snap his jaw shut again as Aziraphale slips it over the head of Crowley’s cock and slides it down to the base.

“Oh,” Crowley says instead.

Aziraphale smirks, it’s as if he knows exactly what Crowley was thinking. At this point, Crowley wouldn’t be surprised to find out that was true.

With the ring snug around the base of Crowley’s cock, Aziraphale drags his hand up and down the soft length of Crowley’s shaft, encouraging the base human response they’ve both come to enjoy so much together.

Crowley can feel himself start to harden as he fights the urge to raise his hips towards Aziraphale’s hand. He mustn’t take, mustn’t be greedy, Aziraphale will give him what he needs. He forces himself to relax, dropping his head back on the pillows and giving in to the feeling of Aziraphale’s hand on his cock and the growing tightness around the base.

“There we go,” Aziraphale says, sounding pleased. “Nice and hard. Now, Crowley, all you have to do is not come until I say you can. You’ve done it before so I know you’re capable and the ring will help you hold back, so this should be no problem at all!”

Something in Aziraphale’s tone tells Crowley that, actually, it’s likely to be quite a big problem but Aziraphale expects him to succeed regardless. He likes a challenge about as much as he doesn’t like disappointing Aziraphale.

“I understand, angel,” Crowley says, giving his clear consent.

Aziraphale smiles warmly and clasps his hands in front of him, telegraphing to Crowley that he won’t be touched for a while.

“Move into the middle of the bed,” Aziraphale says, extracting himself from the loose hold of Crowley’s legs.

Crowley shuffles over as he’s been instructed, his cock bobbing obscenely with each movement. He’s not sure what to do with his hands and fidgets briefly. Leaving them at his side feels too passive, lacing his fingers behind his head feels too aggressive, challenging perhaps. Ultimately, he folds them over his abdomen, holding the fingers of one hand in the grasp of the other.

Aziraphale has removed his own shoes and socks, looking all the more indecent for it. Crowley almost feels like he should look away, which is especially laughable given his current state.

Carefully, Aziraphale climbs back onto the bed and kneels beside Crowley, his hands once again held away from Crowley’s effectively helpless body. Crowley waits, focusing on the expanse of white ceiling above him and trying not to think about whatever Aziraphale has planned. The silence and stillness stretches well beyond a simple building of suspense until Crowley finally allows his eyes to seek Aziraphale’s face.

He hasn’t moved, still kneeling beside Crowley, but the look on his face is a kind of hunger that Crowley usually only gets to see for the duration of a waiter’s walk from the kitchen to their table. Aziraphale is anticipating his feast, his gaze roaming up and down Crowley’s body as if he can’t decide which part to sample first. Crowley would laugh at he thought if it weren’t so damn arousing. His cock throbs as it grows harder, held full by that small ribbon of Aziraphale’s halo.

Finally, Aziraphale breaks and moves closer. His hands reach for Crowley, one landing on his thigh and the other on his ribs, as gentle as anything. Crowley lets out a breath and allows himself to enjoy Aziraphale’s touch, content to submit to whatever is in store for him.

At first it’s just touching, petting, stroking along Crowley’s skin, relaxing and soothing him into a comfortably loose state so he’s no longer obsessing with whatever might come next. Aziraphale inches closer, whispering praise about Crowley’s body, his patience, his stillness, how well he’s doing already.

Crowley’s just wondering if it would be rude to fall asleep at this point when the wet heat of Aziraphale’s mouth closes around the head of his cock, startling him back to alertness. Aziraphale laps at Crowley’s erection, sucking at the head and licking along the length by turns. He’s torturous in his rhythm, never letting Crowley grow accustomed to a sensation long enough for his pleasure to build.

Instead, frustration takes over, making his spine arch and his hips lift as he tries in vain to chase the fleeting flashes of promising sensation. Aziraphale knows his game too well and doesn’t give in until Crowley is whining and panting, clutching at the sheets in impotent exasperation. Only then does he sink lower, taking Crowley fully into his mouth. The relief of it makes Crowley whine, a noise that shifts in pitch when Aziraphale begins to suck in earnest.

Having spent so long skirting around any kind of building pleasure, Crowley is amazed to find himself suddenly hurtling towards his peak. His control is weakened by so much teasing, but he puts all he can into holding back from the edge of orgasm.

“Angel,” he gasps, sweat beading across his face with exertion, “I’m really close, please.”

With one last flex of his tongue, Aziraphale pulls off. Saliva trails stretch between his lips and Crowley’s cock, breaking when he wipes the back of his wrist across his mouth.

“Good boy,” he croons, resuming his soft caresses of Crowley’s body, calming the ragged breaths that tear at Crowley’s lungs like burning coals.

Hazy thoughts swim around Crowley’s mind: knowing his limits isn’t failure, communicating his needs is deserving of praise, Crowley is doing well and Aziraphale is pleased with him. He’s made real progress with how he thinks about these things he needs from Aziraphale, the way he reacts to Aziraphale’s control. He might even be truly happy for the first time.

“Come on,” Aziraphale is saying, tugging gently at Crowley’s hip, “up onto your knees, please.”

Crowley rolls onto his front in a barely controlled flop, yelping as he crushes his erection painfully against the mattress and scrambling to his knees.

“Poor love, did that hurt?” Aziraphale strokes down Crowley’s back in sympathy.

“Yeah, just a bit.” Crowley reaches down to adjust himself and ease the discomfort just as Aziraphale swats him hard, his open palm connecting with the muscle of Crowley’s arse.

“That’s for not taking proper care of my property.”

Crowley is about to retort that the blessed cockring can withstand him rolling on it when he realises that Aziraphale means  _ him _ , and that makes him blush his way through a mumbled apology.

Aziraphale hums in satisfaction and presses a forgiving kiss to the stinging mark left by his hand. Then another kiss just beside it. And another kiss beside that one. Each kiss moving incrementally closer to the cleft of Crowley’s backside.

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley moans, dropping to his elbows and hiding his face in his folded forearms. He knows what’s coming just as well as he knows how damnably good Aziraphale is at taking him to pieces this way.

It’s impossible to properly brace himself for the first touch of Aziraphale’s mouth to his hole, the intimacy of Aziraphale’s wet kiss and firm tongue always knocks the air right out of him. He moans into the safety of his arms, muffling the way he’s already falling apart.

Aziraphale’s tongue strokes upwards in firm, wide sweeps. Already, Crowley wants to give Aziraphale anything he might ask for to be allowed to come from this treatment. He can barely stand it, whimpering and grabbing a pillow to sink his teeth into as Aziraphale’s tongue plays over his rim.

He’s so sensitive there, where Aziraphale is kissing and licking, the pleasure builds exponentially until Crowley is sure that the ring around his cock is doing the equivalent of a champagne cork and holding all his pressure in. Even with the ring and the best of his control, Crowley’s cock is dripping sticky splashes of precome onto the sheets below him.

The pointed tip of Aziraphale’s tongue breaches his hole and Crowley howls into the pillow in his arms, pulling his hips away from Aziraphale for even a moment of respite. Aziraphale’s fingers curl around Crowley’s pelvis, drawing him back and holding him still.

“Darling, you’re doing so well,” Aziraphale says, breathless and wanting, “I can feel how much you want to come, can feel it in every atom of me. Hold on a little longer, I know you can.”

Crowley whines but stops fighting Aziraphale’s hold, allows himself to be positioned just how Aziraphale wants him. He’s stopped being embarrassed by the needy sounds he makes as Aziraphale opens him with his tongue, but the backwards twitch of his hips as he seeks  _ more, deeper,  _ leaves him red in the face.

Too soon and not soon enough, Aziraphale eases a slick finger into Crowley’s entrance, fucking him gently on it while Crowley cries out for respite. His cock is so painfully hard, throbbing with the beat of his racing heart and dripping like a leaky tap. He wants Aziraphale to touch him, to bring him off with his clever hands. More than anything, he can’t understand how Aziraphale is holding himself together in the face of their shared and desperate arousal.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, and  _ oh _ , he sounds destroyed, “You’ll be allowed to come very soon.”

Crowley thinks this might be more for Aziraphale’s benefit than his but that doesn’t prevent him from babbling.

“Please, please, yes, please angel, please, yes.” He’s barely coherent and everything feels so good.

Kisses are pressed into the small of his back and up his spine as Aziraphale rearranges his position, bringing them together until Aziraphale’s thick cock is nudging at Crowley’s slick, open hole and easing inside. Crowley almost sobs with relief at it, nothing feels as good as having Aziraphale buried within him.

“There we go, love, there you are,” Aziraphale’s voice is right by his ear, calming and loving.

Aziraphale’s right arm reaches around Crowley’s waist and up to his left shoulder, pinning him to Aziraphale’s chest. From here, Aziraphale slowly moves backwards until he’s sitting with Crowley in his lap and speared on his cock. It’s so much more intense like this, Crowley’s own weight sinking him further onto Aziraphale. He’s going to come any second now and he can’t help it, he wants to hold off so badly but all his self control is gone, used up.

“Please,” he manages, his hands pushing at Aziraphale’s thighs.

“Hush, love,” Aziraphale says as he pets him. “I’m here.” He kisses Crowley’s neck and shoulder possessively, nipping at his flushed skin. “Take your pleasure, dearest, fuck yourself on me and come for me.”

Crowley’s head drops forward in sheer relief. His legs feel boneless and limp but he manages to raise himself a little and drop back down, riding Aziraphale’s cock as best he can in his current state. It feels incredible but he can’t keep any kind of rhythm like this, he’ll never be able to push his pleasure over the peak of orgasm with this sorry performance.

Aziraphale’s right hand drops to Crowley’s hip, holding him and helping him move whilst his left hand curls around Crowley’s oversensitive cock. The snake ring touches the ring around Crowley’s erection and the surge of pleasure that results has Aziraphale slamming up into Crowley’s hole at a vigorous pace. Crowley can only sob and whimper, clutching at Aziraphale’s arms and begging to be allowed to come.

“You have permission, Crowley, you can come,” Aziraphale huffs out.

“I can’t!” Crowley whines, “I’m so close but I can’t!”

Aziraphale tugs at the ring at the base of Crowley’s cock, expanding it and releasing the pressure. At once, Crowley is shuddering through a climax that renders him near insensible, wave after wave of pleasure crashes through him until he can only think about the feel of Aziraphale’s cock spilling inside him and firm hands holding him down.

It’s some minutes before Crowley can even contemplate opening his eyes, although the feel of linen against his face suggests that he wouldn’t see much even if he tried. Instead, he lies still on his front and focuses on the weight of Aziraphale’s arm and legs covering him, pointedly ignoring the cooling sticky patches of ejaculate on the sheets beneath him.

Slowly, Aziraphale moves, easing away from Crowley but keeping enough contact to reassure him. Crowley wonders idly when Aziraphale had taken his clothes off, drunk on an excess of skin contact and post-orgasmic bliss.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Aziraphale says, somewhere above Crowley’s head.

A cool, damp flannel glides up the back of Crowley’s leg, stopping at the crease of his buttock before repeating on the other side. Then his neck and back are cleaned with the same gentle care, wiping away sweat and cooling his overheated skin all at once. Finally, his thoroughly fucked hole is cleaned of all trace of their sex. Aziraphale rolls him over, snaps his fingers to replace the bedsheets and cleans the mess off Crowley’s chest and stomach, finishing with soft swipes at Crowley’s finally flagging cock.

“There we go, much better,” Aziraphale says with a smile.

Crowley grins back, all pleased and giggly. Aziraphale kisses his forehead, his nose, his lips. Crowley, who is already 90% liquid, melts the final 10% and clings to Aziraphale’s neck to keep from flowing away completely.

“You did so very well, Crowley,” Aziraphale continues, nuzzling into his hair. “I’m very proud of you, my love.”

“Mmm,” Crowley responds, wittily. Aziraphale chuckles.

“What do you need, sweetheart? What can I get you?”

Crowley knows there’s something he wants, something he was earning, but words are difficult and Aziraphale is soft. It’s hard to think clearly. A single word floats to the top of his jumbled mind.

“Gift?”

“Of course! How silly of me to forget,” Aziraphale scolds himself lightly. “You earned it several times over, my own sweet thing.”

Aziraphale reaches for the cock ring where it lays between them and Crowley groans. That’s not much of a gift. Aziraphale shushes him and focuses on the ring.

He pulls it between his fingers, spinning it out thinner and wider.

“You gave me a ring, I thought it only fitting that I do the same,” Aziraphale explains.

Crowley knows that he looks confused, the ring in Aziraphale’s hands could almost fit around his waist. Aziraphale smiles at his confusion.

“Well, a ring of sorts,” he explains. “Something a bit more in keeping with your role, if you’d like it.”

Realisation dawns as bright as that first morning in Eden, Crowley scrambles into a sitting position and stares with wide eyes. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he can get the words to come out.

“A collar?” he asks. Aziraphale nods. “Yes, yes please.” His acceptance is almost a whisper.

Aziraphale brings the ring over Crowley’s head and shrinks it to fit loosely at his throat. It’s warm against Crowley’s skin, warm and thrumming with a love that’s all for him.

With his eyes fixed on Aziraphale’s face, Crowley brushes his fingers over the metal before lifting part of it to his lips and kissing the slim band. Aziraphale shivers and Crowley beams.

“I love it,” Crowley says quietly. “I love it and I love you. I couldn’t ask for more in a husband.”

He sees the word land, sees the way Aziraphale’s eyes well up at the impact, feels the significance radiate out from his own hidden halo and the strip around his throat.

“Husband,” Aziraphale echoes as if he can’t believe what he heard.

Crowley nods carefully, trying to go slowly enough.

“If you like,” he offers.

Aziraphale pulls him into a hug and smothers him with kisses.

“If I like! You impossible beast. I love you so much!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments sustain me in these dark times. Alternatively, send your appreciation in the form of portentous animal entrails!


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